Quiet time in the library
by Hydrochloric Cutie
Summary: Hermione is in her favorite place, reading her favorite book. Can she help a frustrated Quiddich Captain?


Hermione Granger and Oliver Wood

Hermione Granger, resident Gryffindor bookworm, was sitting in her favorite chair in the whole library, reading her favorite book of all time, Hogwarts: A History. She had been sitting there for nearly an hour before she heard the frustrated groan that was emitted from the table three rows behind her, the sound was familiar to her, but she just couldn't place the person who made it. She swiveled around in her seat to try and see who was sitting there making all those noises, distracting her from her reading. Hermione let out a small gasp when she saw Oliver Wood sitting there, head in his head, bowed over a piece of parchment, his fingers tugging at his brown hair in frustration. She quietly closed her book, and went over to where he was sitting. This seventh year couldn't possibly want the help of a third year, but she thought she'd give it a try anyway.

She put her hand on his shoulder, "Are you okay?" she asked quietly. Oliver jerked up quickly at the contact, but dropped his guarded appearance once he made the connection that it was Hermione that had interrupted his musings.

"Er, yeah," he sighed. "Just my plays aren't workin'."

"You mind if I take a look?" Hermione asked innocently.

"What do you know about Quidditch?" he asked.

"More than you think," she replied cryptically.

"Okay then," he said, pushing the papers toward her. She bent over to see them. Oliver couldn't help but notice her body, I mean he is a guy, give him credit that he lasted this long before checking her out. She was technically fourteen, but since she had been using the time-turner all year, she was more like fifteen, only two years younger than himself. She had hips, something Oliver actually paid attention to in a woman. He wasn't the guy who went for some girl who was skin and bones. He liked curved, 'more places to hold on to' he would always say. Hermione's tummy was flat, but that normally went unnoticed because she wore baggy robes to cover her body. She also had an ample chest and no once seemed to notice that either. Her hair may have been bushy looking, but Oliver had felt it on his arm during one of the games when she was down on the pitch, helping Harry; her hair was really soft, and oh how he longed to run his fingers through it. Her eyes were chocolate brown, or at least that's what he had deemed them. He also noticed that she was incredibly smart, probably smarter than several of the Slytherins in his year.

"Oliver!" she called, which broke him out of his reverie. "You back to planet earth yet?"

"W—what?"

"I called your name like three times," she said.

"Oh, sorry," he muttered sheepishly.

"Well I found the problem," she informed him. "You had the chasers too far apart; they have to fly no more than seven feet apart for this to work. This is only based on the probably flying pattern of Hufflepuff though."

"How do you know how they fly?"

"I do go to every match, as well as all of your practices," she admitted.

"So you picked up on flying strategies?" he asked incredulously.

"I know handling percentages, score averages, pretty much any stats of the game,"

"Really?"

"Really," she confirmed. Oliver stood up and looked over the play one more times. "I you sue this plan, then there isn't going to be a single thing stopping you on Saturday for the match.

"Thank you so much, Hermione!" Oliver cried before cupping her face and giving her a chaste kiss square on the lips. They both froze, lips on each other. Oliver broke away first. "I am **so** sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"Its fine," she blushed. "I didn't really mind."

"Really?" he asked in surprise. She nodded.

He leaned in again and their lips connected. A fire was ignited within his loins. He felt Hermione's tongue on his lower lip and he groaned, allowing her access. Their tongues played sweetly, not fiercely, as he had expected. Most girls that he had kissed had always tried to be rough with him; thinking that, since he played Quidditch, he wasn't capable of being gentle. Oliver slid his hand to cup her cheek gently. Hermione could have melted fat the vulnerability she was feeling from the burly seventh year.

Hermione slipped her hand into his hair. It was slightly long, and when he grew it out, it got curly. Hermione had a thing for guys with curly hair. Oliver had one arm around her hips but snaked it to her lower back, pulling her flush against him. She was only 5'4", and he was 6' tall, so they were a bit awkward at first. He picked her up and sat her on the table, so he could get a better height advantage.

She gasped as he pushed her legs apart and nestled right in between them, still kissing her all the same. Her hands gripped his hair, pulling his even closer. "Bloody hell!"

The two broke apart with a sound like a suction cup. Hermione's head whipped around to face the offender. It was Ron and Harry. Hermione shrugged and went back to snogging the Quidditch captain. He had no objections to this so he just went along, leaving Harry and Ron dumbfounded.


End file.
